Over The Labyrinth Wall
by TalysAlankil
Summary: Hazel Levesque has lived her whole life in a tower, victim of a curse too dangerous to set free. Until she decided she could control herself, that is. Little does she know her tower stands in the middle of a Labyrinth, guarded by a ferocious Beast. (Part of the same Fairy Tale AU as, and sequel to, The Ghost King)
1. Chapter 1

It took months for Hazel to prepare her own birthday present.

In her defense, she wasn't going to get many presents on her twentieth birthday. No more than on any of her previous birthdays, really. Had she not read about the tradition in one of the many books in her tower, she wouldn't even have known it existed. Her mother had certainly never bothered with telling her.

As if on cue, her mother's voice echoed Hazel's thoughts. "Good morning, sweetheart! I'm coming up, be careful!"

A rumble followed her words as Gaea's magic bent the earth to lift her all the way up to the window of Hazel's tower—her only connection to the outside world. Hazel stepped away, even though the precaution was unnecessary, since Gaea had supplied her with her gloves. Hazel only took them off to bathe; there was no need to tell her to be careful, yet Gaea persisted. That was the kind of tradition Hazel had grown up with.

"How is my favorite daughter today?" Gaea called out cheerfully.

"I'm your only daughter, Mother."

"That you are," Gaea cooed as she placed a kiss on the top of Hazel's head—after pausing to make sure Hazel's gloves were on. "And I wouldn't ask for anything more."

"Me neither, Mother."

"Yet you didn't answer my question," Gaea singsonged. She had something she wanted to say—good news, Hazel guessed—but she wouldn't until they completed their daily ritual.

"I'm great, Mother. I'm excited about my birthday tomorrow." Hazel forced herself to pour some emotion in her voice, but she couldn't muster it. Deception wasn't her strongest suit. "And you?"

"Oh, is it tomorrow already? Sweetheart, you'll just _have_ to tell me what you'd like. But first—" Gaea lifted the heavy bag she carried by its shoulder strap, and laid it on the floor, in front of Hazel. "I've had a great idea to diversify our business, sweetheart. Look!" She knelt, waving at Hazel to do the same, and reached into the bag. "Straw! You could make a fine thread out of it, like nothing anyone has ever seen before. With my marketing genius, every noble from Hades to Olympus will tear each other apart over the new fashion trend!" Catching Hazel's worried glance, she added, "Metaphorically, of course. No one has ever fought wars over riches."

"Of course," Hazel said. Was that supposed to comfort her? Did her mother think she was that ignorant of the world?

"Are you feeling up for it? I'm sure it must be challenging, but—"

"No, I'll do it." It was no challenge at all—it didn't even require an effort on Hazel's part. Her curse did the work; Hazel herself was little else than a vessel for it.

"Good. Just—give me a moment to stand back."

By 'standing back', Gaea apparently mean 'retreating to the tower's window'. Almost as if she expected to have to jump out at any moment. Hazel's arms weren't _that long_.

Sighing, Hazel opened the bag wide. She could have poured its contents over the floor's steel tiles, but she doubted she'd manage the fine result Gaea expected by taking handfuls of straw at once. Gaea required precision, and Hazel was perfectly capable of it.

She peeled her left glove off her hand, then reached into the bag with her other hand. Picking a single stalk with one hand—especially when wearing a glove made of sheets of gold—was no simple matter, but Hazel had grown used to the process: Gaea had been forcing her to do more and more precise work over the years.

When she came up with a single piece, she brought it to her left hand. The moment the straw touched her bare skin, her curse operated: a golden shine ran across the straw's length for a brief moment. After it faded, Hazel was holding pure gold, a stick as fine as the straw had been. It was rigid, but Hazel applied her will to it, and she felt it rearrange under her fingers, turning as supple as thread.

"Is this good enough, Mother?"

Gaea took a tentative step forward, her eyes flicking between Hazel's bare hand and the thread of gold. "Yes. Yes, perfect. Such a shame you can't work faster."

Hazel bit back a retort. "I'm sorry, Mother."

"Well, it can't be helped, I suppose. I'll leave you to it for a few days, so you can turn the whole thing."

Hazel saw the opportunity, and she took it. "Perhaps you could get me my birthday present in the meantime?" All she needed was a reason to keep Gaea away for a while. "I thought…perhaps some platinum for me to work with…"

"Sweetheart, I could only find some in the Hesperides! The journey would take me _forever_!" Hazel remained where she was, kneeling next to the bag of straw, silently pleading her mother. Gaea's gaze went to the bag, then, finally, she sighed. "All right. For you, I'll do it. But I should get going now, then. Will you forgive me for missing your birthday?"

"Of course, Mother. Besides, the work will keep me occupied."

* * *

Gaea made a show of saying goodbye to Hazel, of making sure she would have all she needed while Gaea was gone, and finally, of leaving. It took long—too long to Hazel's liking—but eventually, she was alone in the tower once more.

She rushed to her cupboard, where she stored her cleaning supplies. She had been working on her project for months, and it was finally coming to fruition. If her calculations were correct—and she knew they were—she'd have enough today.

Hazel swept the tower, cleaning it like she had done every day since she could walk. But she didn't dispose of the accumulated dust—she hadn't for months now. Instead, she picked it up in one hand, removed her other glove with her teeth, and poured the specks on her hand. They lit up, as if on fire, and Hazel ended up with a handful of golden specks.

She walked to her window, made sure the wind wasn't blowing away, and dropped them over the edge. This had been the most crucial element of her plan—that her will, her control over all the precious metal she created, would extend far enough. She couldn't keep all that gold in the tower without risking Gaea finding it, so tossing it over the edge was her only choice. It fell among the spikes in the moat at the bottom, barely visible among the dirt. But Hazel could still sense it all—months' worth, enough for her to make her way out.

She was about to put her plan in motion, but she stopped, looking back at the bag of straw Gaea had left behind, then glancing at her own gloves. Gaea had made them ages ago: they were sheets of gold bent and fit together to give Hazel's fingers some freedom of movement. It made everything awkward and complicated. But with golden _thread_ , flexible and responsive to Hazel's will, she could make something much more suitable for herself.

Sighing, she turned away from the window. She had planned it so that she would leave on her birthday; perhaps it was fitting to wait for one more day.

She sat down with the bag on her lap, and started picking up pieces of straw.


	2. Chapter 2

Hazel allowed herself a few hours of sleep. She had finished her work past midnight, the last creation she would ever make in this tower: a new pair of gloves, made of finely-spun gold, soft as silk, and sturdy as all Hazel's magical creations were.

This was probably not the use Gaea had intended for the straw she'd brought, but Hazel could not bring herself to care. She could not delay her leaving to wait for Gaea's permission. She _needed_ to get out.

She would always be grateful to Gaea for what she'd done, of course. She'd raised her, taken care of her, and kept her away so she couldn't hurt anyone with her curse. But when Gaea had given her her old gloves, keeping Hazel's curse contained, Hazel had wondered if there was a point to staying out of the world. Surely being careful would be enough.

The brush of light at sunrise woke Hazel up, and it took her only a few minutes to be ready. She had stored her provisions in the bag in which Gaea had carried the straw; she had nothing else to take with her. It was summer outside, she knew, which was fortunate, since Gaea had never bothered getting her a cloak. All she had to wear was the tunic and trousers she'd worn every day for over a year now.

She walked to the window, glancing back one last time at the place that had been her entire world for twenty years, then turned her back on it. It was time to leave, to expand her world.

The golden dust was still hidden in the moat, below her: she imprinted her will on it, and one by one, specks of gold floated up to her window, and inside the tower. They congregated together, gathering in a flat surface barely wide enough for Hazel to stand on. She layered the grains on top of one another, strengthening her creation as much as she could with magic alone.

Tentatively, she laid a foot on it, waiting for it to dissolve and ruin her carefully-crafted plan. But it held on, even when she stood on it with both feet, the force of her will greater than her weight—for now, at least.

She stepped back, willed the golden platform to float outside the window, then carefully got out as well, one leg at a time, keeping her hands on the windowsill. Her creation hovered shakily, and for a moment, Hazel feared she wouldn't be able to keep her balance. She remembered something she'd read in a book, and crouched on the platform, slowly steadying herself.

When she let go of the windowsill, she felt her heart lurching in her chest, as though she was falling, but she didn't. Terror raged within her, turning her heart into a hammer and her lungs to nothing, threatening to tear her focus apart. She couldn't waste any more time: she willed the platform to float down.

The first half of her descent went smoothly; then, suddenly, wind blew at her, pushing her away from the tower, even though the building should have protected her. She felt herself sliding, willed her platform to right itself, but her momentum carried her over the edge.

She fell, her brain briefly overloaded by the feeling of weightlessness, her eyes blinded by tears as the wind roared around her. But she didn't need to see; she reached out to her platform and willed it apart, remodeling it as fast as her imagination could come up with a solution.

Her fall broke when a strand of golden dust caught her right wrist, then another secured around her left ankle. Both were connected to the remnants of the platform, and both were horrifyingly thin—she'd been forced to, or it would never have reached her in time.

The ground was still some ten meters beneath her, too far to safely land. She tried to get the platform to come down to her, but her relief at being caught—at not _dying_ —was what had finally defeated her focus. Closing her eyes, Hazel breathed in slowly, trying to build up her concentration again—and before she could, she felt the strands of gold around her breaking apart. She didn't even have time to try and consolidate them before she was falling again.

 _This is it. I'm going to die. I was so foolish to even try._ The tower had been _designed_ to keep her in. Of course golden dust wouldn't have been the answer.

She never hit the ground, though. Her fall was broken as _something_ caught her, hurling her to the side instead of down. With a cry of surprise—and a little of pain at the shock—Hazel opened her eyes, but everything around her was a blur of colors: azure blue, stone gray, moss green, and tawny brown.

She tumbled for what felt like an eternity, then the world finally stopped spinning, and something dropped her on the ground. Immediately, she rolled away, looking up at what had caught her. When she saw, her heart froze in her chest.

It was a feline, its fur a tawny brown, like a panther or a mountain lion Hazel had read about. Except there were no such things anywhere near her tower—and it was almost as tall as Hazel was, which she doubted was a regular size for such animals. It stared at Hazel almost curiously, with eyes filled with intelligence.

Hazel knew what it was. Her mother had practically raised her with stories of her tower. A labyrinth surrounded it, and a Beast roamed its corners. Gaea had made it sound like it was there for her protection, though Hazel had often wondered if it wasn't meant to keep her in. In any case, her plan had been to hover over the Labyrinth and immediately getting out in the process; and now here she was, stuck in sight of the tower—far from any possible exit—and with the Beast right there.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the creature to attack her, but nothing happened. All that came instead was a voice.

"Are you all right?"

It was a masculine, deep voice, with a hint of an accent Hazel couldn't place by lack of experience. Her eyes snapped open, but she was still alone with the Beast staring at her.

"I said, are you all right?"

The voice came from the Beast, Hazel was sure of it now. Its maw didn't move—nor did Hazel imagine that it could articulate words—but it had spoken to her. And asked her if she was all right. She let out a shocked gasp. "You can talk?"

"Why does that surprise you? You can hover on gold."

The Beast's words brought Hazel's mind back to the task at hand. She doubted it would kill her, now, so she stood up and look around. "My platform? Where is it?"

"It fell to pieces after I caught you. The wind scattered them."

Hazel couldn't help but let out a whine. "Now I'll _never_ get out of here." What could she do? Even getting back inside the tower would be impossible without a way to climb up.

"I was wondering why you were throwing gold from your window every day. It was a good idea; I'm sad it didn't work out for you."

Hazel turned her attention back on the Beast. "Aren't you supposed to be angry that I tried to escape? You're here to guard the Labyrinth, aren't you?"

There was a raspy sound, which Hazel realized was a mixture of a laugh and the Beast's natural growl. "I'm a prisoner of it as much as you are. The same witch who visits you every day put me here, a few years ago."

"The witch? You mean Mother?"

"You may call her that, but she is a witch. And I'm not just saying that because she has magic," the Beast said in a hurry. "I don't mean to insult you."

"I don't have magic—only this stupid _curse_."

"Again, you were hovering on gold. I think that counts as magic."

A nervous laugh escaped Hazel's lips before she could contain it. "Yeah. Well, fat lot of good it did me. Now I'm stuck here."

"I could take you to the exit, if that's what you want."

"I thought you were a prisoner here."

"The exit isn't what the witch doesn't want me to find. I can lead you there—it'll only take a couple of days, even if we walk at a human's pace."

Hazel frowned at the beast calling her mother a witch again. "How do I know you're not going to lose me on purpose to get revenge on Mother?"

"Because, as I said, you're as much her prisoner as I am. Even if you don't seem to realize it yet. So, will you follow me?"

Hazel shrugged. "All right. Lead the way."

* * *

They walked in silence for two hours at least, by Hazel's estimate. She was slowly getting used to wandering a maze with a magical, talking beast, but the silence that hung between them was more than she could bear.

"So how did you end up here?"

The Beast paused, not answering, but turning its head towards Hazel.

"It's just—you said you're a prisoner. I wonder how that happened, especially if you know the way out."

"There's something else keeping me here. After all, why would a beast like me want to roam the world?"

Hazel blinked, unable to understand the question. "Why _wouldn't_ you?"

"How do you think most people would react to seeing me?"

The answer was obvious enough, even to someone who had never been in the outside world. "Then what did you do _before_ you were a prisoner?"

More silence, as impenetrable as the walls surrounding them.

But Hazel wouldn't take it. "Okay. How about this: I tell you about myself, and you answer my question. Does that sound like a deal?" She didn't wait for the Beast's answer. "I've lived in that tower for as long as I can remember. Gaea—the 'witch' you told me about—raised me, fed me. She gave me everything I have, taught me everything I know." Still no reply. "The reason why I was put here is because of my curse. Everything I touch turns to gold. I can then control that gold, and other precious metals too, sometimes, but—well, no one would risk being turned to gold by their own daughter. Gaea took me in after my parents gave me up. She was like a mother to me."

"Is that what she told you? That your parents gave you up?"

"Well—of course. How else would I have ended up here?"

"What did you do of your time, in that tower?"

Hazel frowned, unsure what the Beast was getting at. "I read a lot. Did some chores, of course. Sometimes Mother—I mean, Gaea—would bring me material to try turning to gold. That's how we figured out that gloves could contain my power." She held out her gloved hands in demonstration. In spite of her rough landing, they were still mostly intact—an advantage to magical gold.

"And what did she do with all that gold?"

Hazel shrugged. "Well, she took it. It's not like I had any use for it here." She paused, catching the Beast staring at her with a look she thought was amused. "If you think she's getting rich on my back, I know that already. It's the least I can do for the safety she gave me."

"So safe you had to run away," the Beast deadpanned.

Hazel scoffed, but she couldn't retort to that. "Your turn. A deal's a deal."

She almost expected the Beast to point out that it hadn't agreed to anything, but it gave a low growl, then talked. "I was a man, before. Born with an ability—like yours."

"You're cursed too?"

The Beast made a raspy noise—the one Hazel had heard before, what passed for laughter in its throat. "I don't think your gift is a _curse_. Mine certainly wasn't. I could turn into animals—normal, magical, real, imaginary, _anything_. The witch decided I was too powerful, and locked me in here, after trapping me in this form. Which is why I can't leave this Maze."

Hazel pondered its words. "When we met, you said there was something the witch didn't want you to find in here. What was it?"

"My salvation. A way to end the curse she placed on me. Then, I could leave this place."

"I see." Hazel wasn't sure what else to say. She knew Gaea had magic—was it powerful enough to trap someone in a different shape? Hazel had no real way of knowing for sure. But she guessed the Beast had no reason to lie to her. "I'm Hazel, by the way. Since you never asked."

"I wondered if you had a name aside from 'sweetheart'," the Beast said, sardonic. Hazel frowned at it—the only way it would know about Gaea's pet name for her was if it had watched during her visits. The Beast caught her look, and laughed again. "My name is Frank."

"Frank?" She couldn't help but giggle. "A Beast named Frank. How anticlimactic."

"A man named Frank, trapped as a beast." For the first time, the Beast's voice—Frank's voice—sounded bitter.

"You're right," she said. "When you put it like that, it's suddenly quite tragic."


	3. Chapter 3

They walked for the entire day, with the Beast— _Frank_ , his name was Frank—growing more and more jittery because of Hazel's slow pace. But they had agreed that she needed to save her strength, if they were ever going to reach the exit.

Frank wasn't a particularly better conversationalist than Hazel was, but they talked every so often, about anything that came to mind. Frank told her about the games he used to play with the other children in his hometown, somewhere in the kingdom of Olympus. Hazel talked about her favorite books, telling him the stories as best as she could remember them.

It was a pleasant way to pass time and break the monotony of the Labyrinth. Almost everything around them was grey, with green moss and vines sometimes coloring the landscape. Above all else, Hazel hated how little sunlight reached them. Her tower had several openings to let light in, and she was not used to being in the dark during the day. As the afternoon passed and the sun went down, she felt almost like she was buried underground.

When evening came and the light became too dim for Hazel to see, they stopped walking. Hazel took some of her meager provisions from her pack to eat, then glanced at Frank. "Do you need—"

"I'll hunt."

Before Hazel could ask for an explanation, Frank ran away, vanishing behind a corner.

His departure made Hazel feel truly alone for the first time. It was as if the darkness had closed in on her, shutting her out of the world entirely. She had barely enough moonlight to avoid bumping into the walls.

"I need a fire." She had no idea why she had spoken out loud; she had never done so in her tower. Maybe the darkness was intimidating her more than she was willing to admit—even to herself.

She had taken her lighter from the tower, so she could start a fire easily. However, all she had for kindling was vines. She doubted it would make for a very good fire, but it would be better than nothing.

By the time Frank came back, she had a small fire running. It gave off more smoke thank heat, but it lit up her corner of the Labyrinth, and that was all that mattered. She turned to greet Frank, and noticed the massive carcass he was dragging behind him. A minotaur—a beast of legend, that wasn't even supposed to exist.

"Where did you find that?" she asked, her voice more shrill than she'd intended. "And how did you—"

"There are a few of them in the Labyrinth. And they're not the only creatures roaming these halls."

Hazel gaped at Frank for a moment. "I never even knew that." Why had Gaea never warned her? Probably because she had never considered that Hazel might leave on her own. "But—"

"I'm the most dangerous creature around. Don't worry. They'll stay away from you so long as my scent is around you."

Hazel couldn't help but chuckle. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Well, unlike the others, I have a conscience."

"Thank you for your protection, then." Hazel had meant that, surprisingly enough, and found herself smiling at Frank.

"You made a fire," Frank said.

The sudden change of topic surprised Hazel. "Yeah. Maybe I shouldn't have? What with the monsters—"

"No; you'll be fine, I told you. No monster will willingly come where I left my scent, fire or no fire. I only meant to ask—could you cook some of this for me?" He nodded at the Minotaur's carcass.

"You eat cooked meat?"

"Not since I've been here. But I miss it. You can have some too, if you want."

Hazel glanced at the corpse. "Sure. I'm not so sure about eating some myself, though—that'd feel too much like eating a person, wouldn't it?"

Frank laughed his strange, raspy laugh. "I never thought about it that way."

For a few minutes, they worked on getting a piece of meat cooking. Frank tore it from the minotaur's carcass with his fangs, since Hazel had no knife; meanwhile, she pulled out more vines from the walls, removed one of her gloves, and turned them in gold. Then, she manipulated her creation into a solid spittle, which they used to place the meat over the fire.

There was a moment of silence, broken by Hazel's stomach grumbling. She hadn't had a lot of food to pack, and she hadn't planned to walk all day. "I could probably use some meat," she said, giggling. "It doesn't hurt to try, right? If your offer still stands."

"I'll cut a piece from the head for you, if it makes it any better."

Hazel wasn't entirely sure that it did, but she wasn't going to pull back now. And she _was_ hungry. "Thanks."

Her fire was too small to cook a lot of meat at once, and even then, it didn't cook very fast. But as they waited, the scent of smoke and meat made Hazel feel a little more comfortable. Sure, her escape plan hadn't worked out just as expected, but she would be fine.

* * *

The evening was slow, warm, and surprisingly pleasant considering their setting. They traded more stories, and Frank even sang Hazel a song his mother used to sing him as a child—a military chant, one that spoke of longing for home and fighting for loved ones. The minotaur meat was eventually cooked, somehow, and they shared it. Thankfully, it tasted mostly like beef—though for all she knew, maybe that was the taste of human flesh. Frank didn't seem to have any more of a clue what humans tasted like, which she guessed was reassuring.

After eating, Hazel smothered her fire and went to sleep. It came fast, which Hazel guessed was due to the exhaustion of walking all day. She hadn't really had a lot of room for exercise in her tower.

In the morning, they resumed their progression through the Labyrinth. Frank promised her that they should reach it in the evening; in the end, he was proven wrong, as they reached it sooner than that. When they made the last turn, and a long straight path opened before Hazel, ending in an opening in the walls, Hazel let out of a cry of joy and relief.

"I can't believe it!" She felt like she could barely remember what it was like to see something other than walls blocking the horizon.

Overcome with her success, Hazel ran the rest of the way, with Frank running by her side. She stopped at the threshold, taking it in slowly.

Freedom. With one more step, she would be in the outside world. Far from her tower—never to return.

What stopped her was Frank's voice. "Well, there you are. You're free to go."

"Thank you for showing me the way." She turned to face him. His feline's expression was difficult to read, but she could have sworn there was a hint of sadness here as well. He turned away as she stared, and took a step back towards the inside of the Maze. "But—you're not free to go."

Frank froze. "No. I am not."

"You said your salvation was in the Labyrinth. What did you mean?"

"Just that. Gaea stole my shapeshifting powers after trapping me in this form, and stored it into a golden lantern."

Hazel gasped. "And it's somewhere in the Labyrinth?"

"Yes. She could only take my power away because of the Labyrinth's own magic. If it was moved outside of the Labyrinth, my powers would be restored to me. But I've searched this place for years. I know every corner of this maze, I've searched all of them twice, and I haven't found it."

"I know the lantern you mean," Hazel let out. "I—I made it. I mean, Gaia gave it to me and I turned it to gold."

Frank remained silent for just a moment. Then, he said, "You don't need to feel sorry for doing that. You had no idea what she would do with it."

"I know but—that's the thing. I know where the lantern _is_." Frank stared at her, and she shrugged. "There _is_ one place in the Labyrinth you didn't check out. My tower."


	4. Chapter 4

Walking back to the tower felt was a saddening experience to Hazel. After two days biding her time until she was free from that place, she was walking back to it.

Yet she couldn't have left the Labyrinth and Frank behind. If her first action as a free woman was to leave someone else to suffer when she could help them, what was the point of being free at all?

She couldn't help but feel a little responsible for Frank's fate, too. Sure, she hadn't known what the lantern would be used, but Gaea's order had been eerily specific. She had told Hazel the exact shape of its base (an irregular, nine-pointed star), the pattern on its inner surface (a lattice of tiny, spear-like pointed bars) and the exact number of waves Hazel should trace in golden filigree along the lantern's glass walls. Everything had pointed to the lantern being used in _some_ spell. Hazel could have made it with just enough of a flaw that it wouldn't have worked and Gaea would never have known, but she hadn't.

So she returned to her tower, two more days of walking. On the second afternoon, the weather broke into heavy rain, and Hazel was soaked through by the time the tower was in sight, shortly before sunset.

Under the clouds, colored orange and purple with the setting sun, the Labyrinth looked exceptionally colorless, and when they finally reached Hazel's tower, it stuck out like a black spire in an ocean of colors. Most importantly, it was just as inaccessible is it had always been.

"How do you think we'll get up there?" Hazel asked. She hadn't thought about _that_."

"No more gold to float up there, I assume?" Frank sounded amused, of all things, as he came close to the tower. He placed his front paw over its wall, and Hazel saw his claws sinking into the stone, as if it was soft as butter. "Can you hang on to me tightly?"

Hazel stared at him for a moment, shocked. "You're going to _climb_ it?"

"I can climb any of the Labyrinth's walls. In case you didn't notice, I'm pretty fearsome Beast."

"And you think you can take my weight on top of it?"

"Easily. I already had to carry you when you were falling from there, remember? You're not exactly heavy."

Hazel couldn't help but feel a hint of apprehension as Frank jumped up the wall, low enough that she could still reach for his…waist? Chest? She had no idea what the proper term was in feline anatomy. But she wrapped her arms behind the joints of Frank's forelegs, and held him as tightly as she could.

Frank lurched up almost immediately, bounding a dozen feet in the air in a single movement, making Hazel scream with fear, before he sank his claws into the stone, securing his hold on it as he slipped against the wet rock. He finally steadied, and Hazel was still catching her breath when he leaped again, over and over, without giving her a moment of respite. She closed her eyes, hoping her sudden, overwhelming nausea would pass.

Suddenly, Frank was at the top of the tower, crawling inside the window of what had been Hazel's room—her entire world.

"Looks comfortable," he said, sardonic.

She groaned, and headed straight for the cupboard under the staircase. There, under a thick blanket, was the lantern, in gold and glass, all in waves and jagged edges. It always lit with iridescent fire—so bright, Hazel had had to put it there, lest the tower was too brightly lit to sleep at night. The gold itself glowed, radiating Gaea's power like a wave of cold. Yet it was pleasantly warm in her hand when she took its handle.

"This is the lantern, right?" she said. "Please tell me we didn't come all this way for nothing."

Frank's eyes were set on the lantern. "It is."

"So how does it work? How do we undo the spell?"

"You don't, sweetheart."

Hazel jumped at the new voice, all too familiar and suddenly terrifying. As she turned, Gaea was already right in front of her, violently snatching the lantern from Hazel's weak grip before backing away.

Frank turned to her, snarling, but Gaea held the lantern up, and he froze. "Good kitty. You wouldn't want to lose _this_ , would you?" She glanced back at Hazel. "I see I arrive at just the right time. Making friends with the Beast? Are you _mad_ , sweetheart? That's precisely why we can't trust you in the outside world. You'd be too easily fooled by anyone who'd want to take advantage of you."

Hazel scoffed. "Right. Clearly _he's_ the one I can't trust here." She exerted her power over the lantern, willing it to come back to her.

Gaea noticed, however, and held tight to it. "Really, sweetheart, I know you better than that. This isn't you—you're not a fighter." She sighed. "Well, I see how it is. Time for a change of paradigm. I'm sorry, Beast, but you're simply no longer needed to guard the Labyrinth."

She held the lantern out, and spikes emerged from the wall's stones, piercing its glass. Its colorful fire flashed bright, blinding Hazel for a moment, and when she could see again, the lantern lay in pieces on the floor. Broken, and empty.

Hazel turned to Frank, but he was still in his feline form. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, but nothing was happening. "What have you _done_ , witch?"

"I told you," Gaea said, circling the two of them, glancing at Hazel's hands. "You're no longer needed. But it doesn't mean you're getting your freedom." Then, suddenly, she toppled over, bumping into Hazel. She tried to catch Gaea, but the witch pushed her, pushed her towards Frank, and Hazel lost her balance as well.

Reflexively, Hazel held out her hands to catch herself, and they landed into Frank's fur. The moment her left hand pressed against his skin, she knew something was wrong: golden light rippled along his body, and wherever it passed, Frank's fur was no longer soft and tawny brown, but hard, shining gold.

"No," Hazel said, her voice broken, but it was too late already. Frank stared at her, panic seeping into his eyes, before they too were turned to gold. "No!" She stared at her hands, her gloves, made of her own magical gold. There, on her left hand, where she'd held the lantern, was a small tear. Barely noticeable, but just enough skin showed to touch Frank and trigger Hazel's curse.

With tears in her eyes, she turned to Gaea, meeting her contemptuous sneer with anger. "It's _your_ fault! He didn't deserve this!" Hazel lashed out, jutting out her hand at Gaea, but the witch caught her wrist and held the tear in Hazel's glove at bay. Hazel struggled—in vain.

Her struggle left her collapsed on her knees, desperate, and her tears fell. "Frank…"

"He was no more than the Beast you saw."

"He was kind! Kinder than you've _ever_ been to me."

"He had power. Power _corrupts_! That's why I've kept you here!"

"And how are _you_ kept away from corruption, Mother?"

Gaea scoffed. "But you're right. Perhaps I've kept you long enough. Perhaps it is time to show you to the world." She glanced at Frank. "Now that you've slain the Beast…"

"I did no such thing!" Hazel protested, her voice weak.

"Really? Because you're the only one who turns things to gold, sweetheart. Now, come with me. It is time to introduce you to court."

"To court?" Hazel had never heard of Gaea going to any court in her life.

"Why, yes. Haven't I ever told you about your father? The one who abandoned you? He was King Pluto of Hades!" Hazel stared at her, eyes wide, and Gaea only laughed. "How distracted of me, how could it ever slip my mind to tell you that you're a princess?"


	5. Chapter 5

"The court will love you, dear, you'll see. The Kingdom of Hades has feared this beast for so many years now!"

Hazel had tuned out Gaea's incessant chatter for a long time already. The few days of wagon riding, stuck between Gaea and the statue of a feline beast that was once Frank, had brought her spirits down. She couldn't even manage to conjure any sense of wonder at the world she discovered for the first time, even when the palace of Hades came into view.

Walled in silence, Hazel had worked to fix her gloves—as if that could fix what had happened. She'd grown careless, and now Frank was the first human victim to her curse. It was almost ridiculous that Gaea would choose this moment to take her out in public—but then again, Gaea seemed to think Frank really wasn't a person. Only a Beast.

* * *

The first thing that got Hazel's attention was the young man on the throne. Gaea was delivering a thoughtfully-crafted speech, but Hazel still paid her no mind, her gaze locked on the King of Hades. Her half-brother, if Gaea was to be believed.

They hardly looked alike: the King's skin was much lighter than Hazel's, though there was a hint of color to it, a reminder that their father must have had a dark complexion as well. On the other hand, his hair was black where Hazel's was lighter. He felt more like a flipped image of Hazel's than a brother.

And yet, she also saw familiarity. Some traits and shapes of his face were exactly like hers, barely noticeable to anyone who hadn't spent their entire life with only two faces to look at and study. The gentleness in his eyes drew Hazel in, as did the quiver of his lips as he listened to Gaea's speech, but his gaze met Hazel's.

That's when she felt a deeper connection between them—as if her curse found an echo within him. Was he cursed too? He wasn't wearing any gloves, but maybe his took a different form. A form that could be controlled and channeled, instead of being a danger to everyone around him. Maybe that was the difference between a legitimate child and an illegitimate one like Hazel.

She looked away, suddenly self-conscious, and her eyes fell on one of the King's consorts. They stood on either side of him, one leaning against the throne with a hand on the King's shoulder, the other standing with the straightness of a soldier. There was an air of similarity to them, though Hazel wasn't sure if that was due to their fair hair and skin, or the look of concern they both had while looking at the King.

Gaea droned on, until, suddenly, the King raised a hand. "I think I've heard enough details, Mistress Gaea. My father obviously gave you all the proof you needed to establish your ward's identity. But—I would like to talk to—to Hazel."

"Why, of course. That's why I brought her—"

"Alone."

Gaea showed a moment of hesitation, but she bowed. "Naturally. This must be a joyous time for you. However, perhaps I should stay and make sure she doesn't accidentally harm you. The Kingdom would be thrown in chaos if the King was turned to gold without an heir."

"I think I can handle dangerous magic." The King stood, walking down the steps leading up to the throne.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, this is unlike anything you may have heard of. There's a reason your father sent this girl to the Labyrinth."

The King paused, and cast Gaea a dark glance. "I hear you. I will still talk to my sister alone."

Silence briefly hung in the throne room, before Gaea finally bowed again—though Hazel doubted she was happy to comply. Guards escorted her out of the room, and the rest of the audience—notables, servants, and more people Hazel did not know—left as well, except for the King's consorts.

After they were alone, the King remained silent, staring at Hazel, who returned his gaze. She wasn't sure what to say, and apparently, neither was he. Perhaps this silence was the only way they could communicate.

One of the consorts walked up to the King's side. "Nico," he said. "Are you all right?"

The King blinked a few times, then nodded. "Yes, Will. I'm fine." Then he turned to Hazel again, and said, "I'm sorry for…this, Hazel. I'm sure this is something you've looked forward to for years, and I'm ruining the moment by being awkward."

"Actually," Hazel said, "I only found out who I was a few days ago, Your Majesty."

"Please—call me Nico. We're family." He let out a sigh. "So you didn't know either? What a mess my father—our father—left us in. Seriously, you'd think he would have told me the last time we spoke."

Hazel frowned. "I'm…not sure I follow. I thought King Pluto's death was sudden?"

Nico paused, shaking his head in frustration—though it seemed directed at himself. "Right, I—well, you have your abilities, and I have mine. Actually…maybe I should show you."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Nico's other consort ask. "You're still learning to control it."

Nico glanced back at him with a smile. "It's worth trying, Jason. For Hazel's sake." He turned back to Hazel, and asked, "Do you want to speak to our father? I can bring his ghost here, if you want."

It took a moment for Hazel to process his question. His _ghost_? But then, she understood. "That's your curse?"

Nico had a sad smile at her question. "I used to think of it like that. But—you know, it has its uses. It's only a curse if you let it control your life. I'm sure it's the same with what you can do. You just haven't been taught to control it—any more than I was." He looked past Hazel, towards the throne room's gates. "Which is a shame. If I've read about this Gaea if remotely true, she should have known how to teach you. But she didn't." He looked at Hazel once more, a pointed look that came with an unspoken question.

"I don't think she wanted to teach me. It served her well enough to keep me in that tower."

There was a satisfied glint in Nico's eye. "I did wonder why she was so insistent on staying."

"You did? I thought it was obvious," Will said. "You're okay now, Hazel. You're with your family. We'll take care of you."

His words were comforting, but Hazel wasn't sure how she felt about it. A family wasn't something she'd ever thought she'd have, nor was it something she knew how to handle. And these were three strangers, staring at her with sympathy and a hint of expectation. What if they were worse than Gaea?

She shook her head. Those questions were pointless—it wasn't like she could remain with Gaea. And she certainly couldn't let Gaea take advantage of Frank's fate. "The Beast Gaea claims I slew…it wasn't a monster. It was a man she'd trapped. I don't know the details."

"The Beast of the Labyrinth," Nico said, nodding. "I read about it when I received Gaea's message announcing your arrival. A man descended from several gods, with the ability to turn into animals, real and fictional. His potential was judged too dangerous to leave alone—like yours."

"Like mine," Hazel repeated. "Does that mean you'll lock me up in the Labyrinth again?"

Nico shook his head. "My power could have gotten me there too, if I hadn't kept it under wraps. I think our fears end up creating the circumstances that prove those fears true in the first place. The Labyrinth, and all the other prisons devised by my father and previous Kings and Queens of Hades—I think they were wrong. We can't lock up people because of what they _could_ do."

Hazel let out of a sigh of relief, but relief soon faded and left only melancholy. "Well, it's too late for Frank, now."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could have acted sooner, but—as Jason said, I'm still learning. I can't start freeing everyone and expect them to learn control if I don't know how to do that myself yet. I know it doesn't make up for it, but—"

"It's okay, Nico," Hazel said. "I'm not blaming you, I just—" She sighed. "This is such a _mess_. In the end, what happened to Frank was more my fault than anyone else's. Gaea is right to say I killed him."

A voice answered from behind Hazel. "Actually—not quite."

She whirled around to find a girl standing behind her, a child with the same dark hair and features as Nico's. There was a cloudy look to her, as if she wasn't fully material—which she wasn't, Hazel realized when she saw she could see through the girl.

"Bianca?" Nico's voice sounded incredulous.

"You didn't think I'd pass on the chance to meet our sister, did you?"


	6. Chapter 6

Gaea had already left the palace by the time Hazel headed out of the throne room, but Hazel wasn't surprised. The moment Nico had forced her to leave, she must have guessed Hazel would tell him what Gaea really was like. She'd brought Hazel to the court hoping to be rewarded for raising her, but that only worked if Nico took her speeches at face value.

Hazel wouldn't have cared, if only Gaea had left Frank's statue behind. But it was nowhere to be found, and neither was the wagon Gaea and Hazel had come in.

Nico exchanged a few words with the woman who headed their stables, and turned back to Hazel, looking grim. "She left with the statue."

"Do you think she knows?" Will asked.

Hazel shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Maybe she just wants the gold. Either way, I have to get it back. To get _him_ back."

Nico nodded, slowly. "Of course. We'll come with you—Jason can track her down, and we'll stop her together—"

"Nico." Jason's voice interrupted the King, firm and a little too cold to Hazel's liking. "You can't leave the palace to run after a witch. You could get hurt."

Nico stared at his consort, narrowing his eyes. "You're going to ask me to stay behind for my own safety, aren't you?"

"I have to agree with Jason," Will said. "He can take care of Gaea on his own."

"I'm not letting my husband and my sister go risk their lives without me—I don't care if you gang up on me. Don't even _try_ to stop me."

Strangely, he glanced at Hazel, who just shrugged. "I wasn't going to say anything. You're the King, and I'm glad for the help."

A small smile bloomed on Nico's lips. "See? _She_ gets it." Turning to the stable master, he called out, "Prepare our horses, fast! We need to leave as soon as possible!"

* * *

There was more arguing before they could leave, resulting in Jason conceding that Nico would come with them only if he stayed behind with Will while Jason tracked down Gaea's wagon with Hazel riding with him.

Hazel felt like the precaution was unnecessary—Gaea could just as easily target Nico with her magic from far away, so long as she could see him—but she didn't protest. The more they argued, the longer it would take them to catch up with Gaea.

On the other hand, she felt uncomfortable at the thought of riding a horse, especially if she rode with someone else. Even with her gloves fixed, she had to hold Jason tight to make sure she didn't fall, and she felt he would turn into gold at any turn. How would Nico treat her then, after she'd turned his husband to gold?

She needed to change her mind—think about anything but that. Maybe that would prevent disaster from striking. "Why are you and Will so sure you can take down Gaea on her own? Are you a magician?"

Jason huffed out a short laugh—hardly enough to put Hazel at ease. "No, I'm just a prince with a magic sword."

"Then—how are you planning to fight her? The entire earth answers her commands!"

"I learned something about magic when I met your brother: everyone uses it differently, but in the end, it's the same force. All harmful magic can be undone by true love, and you can even develop an…immunity to it."

True love—the words made Hazel scoff. "I wish I could just do that for Frank." Sure, she'd grown to like him over the few days they'd spent together—but love? That sounded a little too daunting to even consider, if only because she had no idea what he _looked_ like yet. She was glad Bianca's plan had nothing to do with that. "So…what, you think your love for Nico will protect you? If that were true, I don't think magicians would be considered so powerful."

"Not really. I've been subjected to a form of magical poison, if you will. It was tied to Nico's abilities for most of his life. My love for Nico cured me of it, and it left me with a certain…resistance to magic."

The idea left Hazel speechless for a moment. A resistance to magic? "Does that mean—if I touched you—"

Jason laughed again, louder this time. "I don't know if it wouldn't work. I'd rather not try it, to be honest. But I think if there's anyone you could touch with your bare hands, it's probably me. Well, until you've learned to control your powers, anyway."

"You really think I could control it? That it's not just a curse?"

Jason shrugged. "Nico seems to believe it, and so does Bianca; I believe them. That girl's been dead for years, and she still seems to know more about everything than all of us."

His faith actually brought Hazel some reassurance. Not about herself, but about what they were about to do. If Bianca was as trustworthy as they all seemed to believe, then there was a chance Hazel could undo the biggest mistake of her life.

* * *

Gaea's wagon was slow, and the horse pulling it exhausted by days of travel; in those conditions, it only took them a couple hours to catch up with her, as the sun was setting. Still, Hazel spent every moment of those hours agonizing over what they'd find once they did catch her. What if Gaea had already broken Frank's statue beyond repair? Hazel could control her creations, but she wasn't sure she could re-form Frank if he was broken or molten down to ingots.

She was worried over nothing, however: it appeared Gaea had been focused on putting as much distance between them as she could—in vain.

The wagon pulled to a stop as they approached it, and Gaea came out, holding her hands up innocently. Jason stopped his horse as she did, and Hazel, with her arms still wrapped around him for balance, felt him tense up.

"Mistress Gaea," he called out, his voice cold and polite. "The King was upset to see you were gone so soon. And without saying goodbye! Your ward was unconsolable."

Gaea looked surprised for a moment, her eyes flittering between Jason and Hazel. "I—didn't wish to intrude on a family reunion. The good deed is reward enough for me!"

"Oh, but the King _insists_ that you receive your due."

Gaea's eyes narrowed as Jason dismounted, and helped Hazel off the horse. Then her eyes looked past them, where Nico and Will were visible in the distance. "What is the meaning of this?"

Jason walked towards her, unperturbed. "The Beast's remnants. The statue. The King demands you hand it over." Hazel followed him—mostly because she felt uncomfortable standing alone, out in the open. Jason was cold and impressive, but he was also her best protection against the furious gazes Gaea was sending her way.

"What did Hazel tell you that you would be so…aggressive towards an old sorceress like me?"

Jason drew his sword, though he remained a safe distance away from Gaea. "I think you know."

Surprisingly, Gaea didn't seem impressed—instead, she laughed. "What are you going to try, sweetheart? Bring him back? He's a _beast_. Whatever you try to do, you won't be able to change _that_."

"Hand the statue over, and I'll let you go. You won't be welcome in the Kingdom of Hades anymore, but we'll let you live in exile."

"Is that sword supposed to intimidate me, Prince Jason of Olympus? Do you know how many princes with enchanted weapons I've killed?"

She raised a hand, and the ground shook beneath their feet, but Jason stood still. Maybe it was the immunity he'd mentioned, or he was just well-trained—Hazel had no idea how to tell—but he stood his ground even as Hazel was thrown to the ground.

The moment it stopped, Jason ran towards Gaea. The ground morphed beneath his feet, collapsing and shifting and forming in spikes that struck at him, but he was always slightly ahead, dodging and ducking, rolling and jumping to the side.

Gaea's confident smirk gave way to an air of concentration as Jason came close to her. She said nothing, but she had to have figured out that her usual tricks wouldn't work. Instead, a long spike made of stone came out of the ground, floating into Gaea's hand just on time to meet Jason's blade as he struck at her. The spire blocked the blow, and shattered under it, but reformed immediately. They sparred, Gaea blocking Jason's assaults and re-forming her weapon or summoning a new one, then countering.

Hazel tore herself from her contemplation, scrambling to her feet and rushing towards the wagon while Gaea was distracted by Jason. Inside, she found Frank, the gold calling to her.

Bianca's explanation had been simple: Gaea had broken her lantern to allow Frank to change form, then used Hazel to turn him into a form that Frank couldn't willingly change out of. According to her, he was still conscious, trying to turn _back_. All Hazel had to do was take command of the gold and let him out.

 _All_ she had to do. Something she'd never done before—never even thought possible. And yet, this calling she felt, almost as if the metal was _singing_ to her with sounds only she could hear, made her think it was possible. It was as if this was Frank's voice, asking for her help.

Nervously, she removed her gloves. She hated feeling the air against her skin after what had happened the last time, but she wouldn't be able to work if she blocked her own ability.

 _Ability_. The word sounded nice in Hazel's mind. Maybe she really could control it. If it was only a matter of faith and true love—well, she could believe that.

She commanded the gold to _open_ , to go back to what it once was. She'd rarely attempted it before, and never successfully, but this time was different. _She_ was different, no longer trapped in a tower, with people who cared for her enough to fight a witch for her sake, even though they barely knew her. She had a goal, a purpose.

The gold was different too. It felt like it had a will of its own, and as Hazel closed her eyes to focus, she felt it follow her instructions, taking initiative, building with her rather than bending to her will.

"Go back to what you really are," she said, more a prayer and a hope than a real command. It wasn't as if the gold could hear her.

And yet—she heard a wheezing sound, snapping her out of her focus. She opened her eyes, terrified of what she might have done in her experimentation. The golden statue was gone, and without it, the inside of the wagon was suddenly darker—or perhaps the sun had set. How much time had elapsed? She had no idea.

Another sound came, and Hazel reached out blindly in front of her, finding something solid—and soft, and warm. Skin, naked human skin. She gasped, and pulled her hand back, as if she'd burned herself. A shape stirred in the dark.

"Who's there?" Hazel asked.

"Hazel?"

Hazel's heart leapt at the familiar sound of Frank's voice, and she felt a sob escaping her. "Frank? Are you—"

"I'm human." His voice sounded incredulous, surprised. "I—I think I'm human, anyway. I'm—it's all so _different_. I've…grown up." He sounded almost…embarrassed. "And I'm—grateful it's dark in here."

"Why?"

"Well, I didn't have many clothes on me in the Labyrinth, did I?"

Hazel let out a nervous laugh. "Oh. _Oh_. I'm so sorry, I didn't think—"

"No, don't apologize, you saved me—"

They were interrupted by a cry of pain coming from outside—Gaea's. Hazel gasped. "I—should see what's going on. Wait here."

Frank chuckled—a full-on, human chuckle, and yet, so similar to his laugh as a beast. "I'm not going anywhere like this."

It was dark outside, but the sun hadn't set completely, and Hazel came out to find Gaea bleeding from a gash in her arm, but otherwise unshaken. She was still fighting Jason, though she looked less quick than before—more defensive.

"I did it!" Hazel shouted, not entirely sure who she was talking to. Gaea, whom she had beaten in the end? Jason, who didn't need any distraction? Nico and Will, who still watching from a distance? Maybe she just wanted _the world_ to know. Know that she'd fought her curse, and for once, she'd _won_.

Nico looked up at her, a proud smile lighting up his face. He said something, though Hazel couldn't hear him, she could guess what his words were—kind and proud, just like his smile.

The battle caught Hazel's attention, though. As Jason was slashing at Gaea again, she backflipped away, too nimbly for a woman her age who didn't seem to have any practice of martial arts. Suddenly, she was a few meters away from Jason, landing next to the wagon—and she turned her gaze to Nico, who was still staring at Hazel proudly.

Hazel realized what she was about to do even before a stone spike emerged from the earth and flew at Nico. She had no idea how to stop it, so she did the only thing she could think of: she reached out to grab Gaea's arm.

Hazel wasn't sure what she hoped to accomplish—it wasn't like she could unbalance Gaea to disrupt her magic. Then she remembered: she'd taken off her gloves to free Frank, and she hadn't put them back on yet.

Light ran across Gaea's body immediately, turning it to gold, freezing her with her arm raised and her face distorted with hatred and surprise. And in the distance, the spike she'd conjured crumbled into dust, blowing over Nico as harmlessly as smoke.

* * *

They decided to return to the palace of Hades, using Gaea's wagon to transport her statue back, until they could decide what to do with it. But first, Jason went inside the wagon to lend Frank his coat. However, when he came back out, he was still wearing it, and was followed by the feline beast Hazel had grown familiar with.

"Are you trapped again?" she asked, suddenly scared that it had all been for nothing.

But Frank shook his head. "No. My powers are free once again. I'd just rather be a beast a little while longer."

Next to him, Jason chuckled. "You can just admit that my coat wouldn't fit you."

Hazel stared at him, frowning as she eyed Jason's broad shoulders and defined muscles. If Frank couldn't wear _his_ coat, he had to be massive. She couldn't help but think of that as a good thing, though.

"Thank you, Hazel," Frank said. "If it weren't for you, I would never have left the Labyrinth."

"I almost turned you to gold forever."

"But you didn't."

"I mean—I touched you, after I turned you back. But you weren't turned to gold. And I didn't have my gloves on—I'd forgotten—that's how—" She glanced at Gaea, nervously. Even if Gaea hadn't been the most pleasant person, she _had_ raised Hazel, and Hazel couldn't help but feel like she'd killed her. Her gloves were back on, now, and Hazel was considering never taking them off again.

"Maybe you've already gained some control," Nico said. "I told you you could learn."

"And so did Bianca," Will added. "And she's the one who really knows stuff around here."

Hazel chuckled. "Thank you. All of you. For helping me."

"Even if you weren't my sister, I would have helped you," Nico said. "I don't want anyone to live in fear like we both did, and I'm sure we can work to make sure it never happens again." He glanced at Frank, then back at Hazel. "You're both welcome to stay at the palace and study your abilities with me. If you want."

Hazel had already made her decision. And yet, she couldn't help but exchange a glance with Frank, and was relieved to see him nod. "Yes. Let's go home."

* * *

 **Author's note** : I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish this story! I hope posting the last two chapters back-to-back makes up for that :P

When I come back to this AU (and I still really want to), I'll try to do it differently. I want to go through at least three more stories: one about Jason's backstory and Reyna; one about Percy; and finally one last, big crossover/conclusion to the series. That last one will be a regular chapter fic, but the other two, I'll try to post all in one go (even though I'll split them in chapters for convenience). That way, hopefully, I won't lose interest halfway through/get distracted by other projects ^^

I hope you're going to stick with this series, because I'm still really enthusiastic about it!


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